


A Thousand Beautiful Things

by Lemon-Bar (Revenant)



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Roommates, Slow Build, mute!Justin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-02-26
Updated: 2010-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revenant/pseuds/Lemon-Bar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between his infuriatingly understanding therapist; 'the gang' who still insisted, despite his vociferous protests, that he was a part of them; nurses who glared at him for being such a shit, and apparently mistreating their most sacred patient (Justin, his poor mute, helpless roommate), and Justin, not to mention the nightmares he suffered nightly -- Brian severely wondered if perhaps choosing a prison sentence might have been easier on him than the fresh hell that was Liberty Hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Beautiful Things

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **Read @ ** [ LiveJournal ](http://britin-manor.livejournal.com/14055.html)  
> 

  


  
** Month One, Week One: **   


Brian was used to cold places: bare concrete floors, frosty tiles, white painted walls or sometimes puce. He was used to small places too, but that was before. For Brian Kinney there existed a very definite split in his life, there was Before and there was After, and even if he wasn't certain where the line was drawn he was quite sure that this was After, and even if he might not be happier he at least felt safer.

“What the fuck?” Brian said as the black bag he had toted up the drive of Liberty Mental Hospital and through its large soft yellow hallway was taken out of his grasp. Yellow was something new. So was the space. Brian had been institutionalized before but those places had been cold hospitals in the city, or bland depressing homes on the outskirts. Liberty was a good half-hour out of Pittsburgh, located in an enclave of peace and quiet. The land surrounding the hospital was large; there were expansive gardens and a surrounding forest. The hospital itself was composed of four separate older buildings each vaguely Victorian in style and quite large.

“Welcome to Liberty Hospital,” the woman who had snatched his bag greeted. She thrust forward a hand and didn't wait for him to extend his, simply picked it up and shook it before letting it fall back to his side.

“Kind of an ironic name, isn't it?” Brian said. The woman issued a loud guffawing laugh and passed Brian's bag to the man behind the desk. Brian watched the exchange with a frown. “I think I'll be needing those,” he said very slowly, because he wasn't sure of the woman's intelligence.

“Sure you will, Honey,” she said. “Vic there is going to sort through everything. We keep a close eye on what comes into this place. You get issued a uniform as well as a bracelet with your name. You get to keep your toiletries and any non-hazardous things: photographs or whatever you'd like to have with you. As for the rest, well, you don't need 'em in here, but you'll get 'em back when you leave.”

“What about clothes?” At his sides Brian’s hands clenched into fists and then released in a steady rhythm. It was a habit he had, a ineffective attempt to prevent him from punching something, which was another habit Brian had developed over the years; one that had landed him in Liberty, in fact.

“Like I said, you get a uniform. This isn't a fashion show, Mr. Kinney.” The woman snapped her gum loudly and laughed again. “I'm Debbie, I'm one of the nurses here. Let's get you settled in.”

“Can't wait.” Brian flashed a smarmy, sarcastic smile and wished his insincerity were strong enough to snuff out Debbie's enthusiasm. It wasn't.

She marched him to a side room where his measurements were taken and he said good-bye to his jeans, his black tank top and the leather jacket he'd been wearing. Debbie smacked her gum loudly and tapped her lacquered fingernails against her arms as Brian reluctantly pulled on the Liberty uniform: dark blue hospital pants and a thin T-shirt of the same color. “Blue means you're in House Three. That's where all our mostly harmless patients go,” Debbie explained.

Brian pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Mostly harmless?” 

Debbie shrugged. “Nobody's perfect. This way.”

Brian soon discovered that the four separate buildings were connected by a series of underground tunnels but that patients stayed in their building and for the most part, on their floor. “There's yellow, blue and red," Debbie explained as they walked. "Yellow being chronic cases, schizophrenia and the like, that're severe enough where we can only medicate and help the patient cope. Red is for the violent patients who we keep separate for obvious reasons. Those are the two buildings in the back, by the way. In case you go stumbling into one or the other. Let me tell you, you don't need to look at the color of the clothes to know you've hit building four.”

“Red, I take it?” 

Debbie gave an over-exaggerated nod. “We had a patient who was originally accepted into building three. He settled in nice, even got along with his buddy at first, but then he hit a wall in his sessions and turned violent. We had to move him. It happens sometimes.”

Brian didn't fail to notice that she looked at him somewhat critically after this statement but he was distracted by something else she had said. “What the fuck is a 'buddy'?”

“Everyone's got a buddy!” Debbie exclaimed. Brian rolled his eyes and tried very hard not to gag. “It's Liberty's policy that every patient gets assigned a buddy. It helps with the introduction process: getting new patients settled, helping them feel like they have someone they can rely on. Your therapist can't be there for you all day long for the whole week, for the entire length of your stay.” 

They entered the main floor of building three. The entrance was wide and inviting, the wood floors and staircase dark and polished and it looked as if it could be some wealthy person's home. Debbie ushered him up the stairs to the third floor, which more closely resembled what Brian had come to expect from mental health institutions, except the walls were painted a soft robin's egg blue. The inviting brightness made Brian's skin crawl. Predictability was a safety net, even if he was being pleasantly surprised by his new surroundings Brian did not appreciate the fact that he was being surprised, it set him on edge. 

“Welcome to your new home,” Debbie said, throwing her arms wide as she beamed.

There was a nurse's station to the left where two nurses stood talking amicably. Just beyond the station was an elevator and a bend in the hallway that Brian assumed led to patient rooms. On the right the lounge was cobbled together of worn, overstuffed couches and armchairs, a few tables and mismatched shelves stuffed with various games. Most of the patients currently occupying the lounge were watching the boxy television perched on a squat wooden shelving unit but they turned their attention to Brian, fixing him with suspicious looks as Debbie stepped further into the space.

"Hey everyone! Say hello to Brian! He's new," Debbie said. To Brian's surprise the occupants of the lounge, as well as the two nurses all offered greetings. The patients, however, continued to eye him warily. The feeling was mutual.

"Well," Debbie continued, seemingly pleased by what she considered a warm welcome. “This way, we'll get you settled in.”

Order was a palpable feeling, every shelf organized, everything in its proper place. Even the bulletin board in the lounge was precisely arranged to the point that Brian wondered if the nurses were perhaps suffering from extreme OCD. As far as he could tell the hallway cut a perfectly rectangle through the third floor, the nurse's station and the lounge at the front, and patient rooms on both sides of the hall beyond. There were no security gates or locks anywhere. 

Debbie led him a third of the way down the hall and then abruptly came to a halt by a closed door.  
“Your buddy is also your roommate," she explained. "You won't have any trouble, but if something happens there's a nurse patrolling the hall at all times, all you have to do is give a shout and someone will come running. But you’ll be fine. Sunshine's been here for almost two years, and he's one of the sweetest boy's you could ever meet.”

“Sunshine?” Brian sneered.

“Look.” The friendly tone and expression fell away quickly from the nurse's face, and Debbie jabbed a red polished fingernail at Brian's chest. “You keep your comments to yourself with him, got it?” Brian raised an eyebrow and bit down on his tongue. She huffed. “Tomorrow when you meet your therapist you’ll get some background on your roommate. Just like he'll be getting a bit of your background.”

“What if I don't want to disclose anything to a psych patient?”

“It's voluntary,” Debbie answered, refraining from commenting that he was a 'psych patient' himself. “But you're going to be rooming together for the next few months. You might want to get over yourself.” She turned and knocked on the door before letting herself in. “Sunshine! Meet your new buddy, Brian!”

'Sunshine' looked about fourteen years old. He was seated on the bed on the right side of the room, his back propped against the wall, a pencil gripped loosely in his hand and moving furiously over a pad of paper. At Debbie’s greeting he stopped his work and looked up. The boy had bright blue eyes the likes of which Brian had never seen and for a moment they just stared at each other. Then Sunshine's lips curled upward just slightly.

“Well,” Debbie said. “I'll let you boys get used to each other. Good-night!” She nudged Brian further into the room so she could close the door behind her as she left.

A cardboard box with some of his things was situated at the foot of the free bed, so that's where Brian went. When he lifted the lid on the box he noted bitterly that, just as Debbie had warned, none of his clothes were there. He had one book, his toiletry kit, and the fresh socks and underwear he had packed. In addition, there were an extra pair of the dark blue rubber soled slippers that he had been provided as part of his uniform. It was fucking depressing. With the majority of his belongings confiscated, it didn’t take Brian long to get everything stowed away in the wobbly dresser opposite his bed. 

Once he had unpacked he methodically and somewhat angrily broke down the cardboard box until it lay flat, and then propped it against the wall just outside his room. Then he dropped onto his bed, grimacing at the stiffness of the mattress and the scratchiness of the sheets. He was already missing his own bed.

Even though he didn't feel like reading, Brian picked up the book he had brought and stared at the pages for a while just for something to do. Periodically his eyes would glance up, attention going toward his roommate, but Justin was always in the same position on his own bed across the room, absorbed in whatever it was he was sketching.

After the sixth time Brian had snuck a glance at the blond he put his book aside and fixed his roommate with a narrow-eyed glare. “What are you doing?” 

Sunshine looked up and seemed to assess Brian for a moment, and then he rotated the sketchbook. On the pad was the beginning of a portrait of Debbie that, even in its unfinished state, had captured the loud-mouthed vibrancy of the woman. 

“Do you sketch a lot?” 

Sunshine averted his eyes and shrugged in answer to the question. Brian could make out a faint pinkish tinge on pale cheeks. 

“Do you talk?” Brian tried, his patience beginning to run-out as the silence stretched on. Blue eyes darted to his face nervously and Sunshine licked his lips before he shook his head. “Fucking great,” Brian muttered to himself. “I'm going to bed.” 

He took immense delight in the embarrassed flush that spread over his roommate's skin as Brian stripped off his uniform before crawling into bed. The main lights in the room stayed on since there was apparently still some time before lights-out, but Brian could switch off the lamp by his bed, and he did. He was too tall for the narrow twin-sized bed and it took him a few minutes to figure out a way to curl his legs so that he could at least be reasonably comfortable.

Facing the wall, Brian let his eyes close but his ears kept straining to hear all sounds. Sunshine remained absolutely still and silent. Exhaustion getting the better of him, Brian was almost entirely asleep when he heard the sound of pencil moving on paper once more. He fell asleep to the sound of his roommate sketching.

  
____________________________  


He clung to his pillow in the darkness, eyes fixed to the band of light beneath his door. He listened. He listened so fiercely that silence became a sound, a faint constant like the fuzzing white noise of a television set.

The staircase creaked. His body tensed. The line of light beneath the door was broken, someone standing so close, just on the opposite side. His breath was unbearably loud, his heartbeat even louder. Why couldn't he be quiet? He was attracting too much attention to himself! If he could only be silent then maybe the man would go away.

Brian startled awake, his eyes snapping open as he gasped in a breath. The first thing he saw was Sunshine standing very still above his bed, fingers pressing gently against Brian's shoulder. “Fuck!” Brian snapped at the blond, shifting out of reach. “Watch what you're fucking doing!” Sunshine did not seem the least bit offended, just withdrew his hand slowly before he dropped Brian's uniform on the bed.

The lights in the room were back on and the view from the window in their room showed the beginning of a clear morning. When Brian didn't immediately move to get dressed Sunshine picked the uniform he had deposited on the bed up again and thrust it directly into Brian's arms. Blond eyebrows arched as if to say: 'Well?” and then he crossed back to his own side of the room to give Brian privacy to change.

Just as was pulling his shirt down the door opened and a nurse who he hadn't seen the day before popped her head in. "Good morning, Gents!" she greeted with a smile before moving on. She left the door open. 

Since this was his first time at Liberty Brian followed his roommate through the halls, though he made an effort to appear as if he knew where he was going. Every now and then Sunshine nodded at another patient, receiving bleary greetings in return. Brian had always hated the first day at a new hospital. Survival came down to the presentation of the perfect image: confident and cool, one chink in the amour of that image left no doubt that you would be hassled for the rest of your stay. Brian had been through it before, though admittedly it had been a while. New as he was, it was increasingly evident as well that was different from the hospitals he had become used to.

“There you are, Baby!” a shout echoed off the walls and a tall, slim queen bounced over to Sunshine, pulling him into a hug. “Ooh, and is this your new buddy?” The man turned to Brian and thrust out his hand as if expecting Brian to kiss it. He didn't. “I'm Emmett, it's a pleasure,” the man purred, unperturbed by the warning glare Brian was fixing him with.

“Brian,” Brian answered, because a small crowd had congregated.

“Well, you must join us for breakfast,” Emmett said. “Wait, where are my manners?” Turning around, Emmett waved his hands in a flurry. “I'll introduce the gang.” That sounded slightly ominous to Brian but then if this queen and Sunshine were a part of 'the gang' then Brian didn't think he had too much to worry about.

“I'll assume you know Justin,” Emmett dismissed casually, but it took a moment for Brian to realize he had just learned his roommate's actual name. “This is Michael,” Emmett introduced, indicating a dark-haired man of average height who looked like a kicked puppy dog. When brown eyes latched onto Brian like a kid in a swimming pool would grab at a pool noodle, Brian raised his eyebrows prepared to say something scathing, but Emmett was already gesturing to a slender brunette woman. “This is Mel. She's a lesbian,” Emmett added in a stage whisper that made Brian smirk. Mel rolled her eyes. “And you're Brian,” Emmett finished, as if Brian might not remember his own name. “Come have breakfast.” Emmett talked enough to make up for the fact that two of his friends seemed decidedly mute. “Have they given you your meal plan, yet?”

“My what?” Brian said.

“Welcome to Liberty,” Michael said, sounding uncannily like Eeyore. He looked away as soon as Brian turned his attention on him.

“What Michael means is that Liberty has a funny way of doing things,” Emmett said, smoothing over the awkward moment. Brian had the troubling thought that Michael, clearly a troubled man, might be developing a crush on him.

“It's a leading hospital and makes groundbreaking discoveries in the treatment of its patients,” Mel, which Brian assumed was short for Melanie, offered.

“You only say that because you're fucking a doctor here,” Emmett teased. Brian was surprised to see Sunshine, Justin, smile a little at that. Emmett, noticing Brian's quirked brow, elaborated on his statement. “Melanie is married to one of Liberty's finest therapists. She's a lawyer but lately she's been overdoing it at work. So she's taking a mini-holiday with us!”

“God, Emmett,” Mel said with irritation.

“Oh sue me, Honey. We're all friends here.”

Brian quirked a sarcastic eyebrow in the woman’s direction, “Most people go on vacation for that.” He wanted to volunteer that he was not, nor would he likely ever be one of their friends, but by that point they had reached the cafeteria, which was really a large windowed section just behind to the nurses' desk where several orderlies were handing trays of food and cups of what was likely medication out to those in the line.

Taking his cue from the others, Brian joined the relatively short line, already doing his best to distance himself from the others. He had a migraine already and was flexing his hand in an attempt to keep a level head because no matter what signals he gave, Emmett kept including him in the conversation and Michael kept sneaking obvious looks at him.

“A new face!” the nurse in the window greeted. She seemed young, her skin dark and her eyes bright. She smiled broadly as if she were genuinely happy to see someone new. “A new hot face,” she added with a grin, and then proceeded to blush furiously, though she did her best to appear as if she had meant to blurt out that second statement. 

“Brian Kinney,” he said in amusement, flirting only a little.

She cocked her head and she regarded him. “I take it you haven't been put on a plan yet?” 

“What plan?” 

“Who's your buddy?” she asked with a frown.

“I'm told his name is Justin,” he said acidly. It was ridiculous, cruel and ironic that someone who had been court ordered to find a place where he could learn to 'cool off' was paired with a mute guide.

Apparently this nurse did not share Brian's sentiment. “No shit? You're Jus's roommate?”

“Christ, for a mute little fucker he makes a lot of friends,” Brian muttered.

“Watch it, I handle your food and your drugs,” she cautioned. Brian couldn't be sure if she was serious or not. “Anyway, Liberty takes a holistic approach to healing the mind. You'll go over it in your therapy session today. You'll get a meal plan and meds to help you along, but generally we don't use the standard medications for people with problems.” Which was a nice way of saying that, at Liberty, they didn't shock the crazies. “At least, not in this building. We recognize, of course, that sometimes the more severe cases need more complex treatment. It's usually a last resort, though.”

“That's great,” he said with false sincerity that she noted with a raised eyebrow. “Can I have some breakfast with this lecture, or is this the new holistic approach?”

“Carnivore?” When he nodded she passed out a tray.

“What, no drugs?” She rolled her eyes and waved him on. Not wanting to be social, Brian headed off down the hall, intent on returning to his rooms to eat. It seemed that this was the general tradition at Liberty as most of the other patients were disappearing back into their respective rooms. He'd managed to lose 'the gang' and the way he figured it, even if Justin did come back to the room, it would still be quiet.

Justin didn't return, however. Brian assumed he was eating with his friends and spared another moment to scoff at the blonde's abilities as a 'buddy'. Not that he would have tolerated the kid if he had been doing what he was supposed to: actively attempting to settle Brian in. Brian didn't need settling. He had to endure this so that a doctor could sign a form declaring Brian in control of his temper, and then he could return to his life again and forget all about the fresh hell that was Liberty.

At nine, just as he was contemplating venturing out of his room to see if he was allowed to do anything other than atrophy indoors, there was a light knock on the open door (a nurse had come in and happily opened it once he'd closed it. If he hadn't gotten that hint, the little rubber stopper she propped there even though the door didn't need one to stay open was a big clue).

“You must be Brian Kinney.” The woman was tall and blond and smiled in a tight-lipped yet oddly friendly way. Clearly from a good neighborhood and a fair bit of money. She didn't wear a doctor's coat but she did have a little nametag that said in bold black print: Lindsay.

“If that's what the clipboard says, then I must be,” Brian retorted, glancing pointedly at the clipboard in her hand. It was obvious that she was his therapist. If her oh-so proper feigned companiability with him wasn't a clue, then the analytical look she flashed at his statement gave her away. Melanie's lesbian lover. No, they had been married, right? He could almost hear her cataloguing his various characteristics, rifling through labels and applying them liberally as she saw fit. Brian hated labels they were bullshit.

She stepped into the room and offered her hand, “I'm Lindsay Peterson, your therapist.” 

“Charming,” he said, even if it wasn't. He didn't make an attempt to sound sincere.

"May I sit?" she asked, indicating Justin's bed. When Brian simply stared at her she settled down onto the edge of the bed. “How are you settling in?”

“Pretty fucking well considering my fucking 'buddy' is a mute kid.” 

“Justin has been here a little over two years. He's been quite effective as a buddy, we've found.”

“Are you supposed to give-out information like that?”

Lindsay smiled. People at Liberty seemed to do that way too much considering it was a mental institution. “It's our policy at Liberty to offer buddies the chance to give some background without having to provide details themselves. Sometimes it's easier to have a messenger to explain the tricky things. It's completely consensual, and I only ever share what you ask me to.” Brian snorted and for just a second he saw a flicker of narrow-eyed impatience cross the therapist's face, but when she spoke again it was with the same even tone that suggested infinite patience. “Perhaps you'd like to start there. What would you like me to share with Justin?”

“Jesus, that kid goes to therapy? What does he do, mime his problems?” 

“Justin's case is quite complex. I won't deny that his silence does make things more difficult.” 

“You're his therapist, too?”

“I am.” She regarded him a moment, and they lapsed into silence. “You seem to have a lot of questions about him. Are you getting along?”

“Getting along?" Brian scoffed. "What is this, an episode of 'Barney and Friends'? Next you'll be telling me it's Liberty policy to chant about how much we all love each other before going to bed.” She continued to watch him, which was unnerving. The point of this, Brian remembered, was to demonstrate that he had overcome his anger problem. Taking a few even breaths he tried to act more mature. “We're getting along famously. We're the bestest of friends.”

“I'm familiar with your case, Brian. I know you aren't here by choice. But of the limited options you _did_ have you _chose_ Liberty. It's still possible to change your mind.” That shut him up pretty quick. He'd been around to most of the hospitals in Pittsburgh that dealt with people like him. Liberty was the only name that hadn't been familiar to him and he'd grabbed at the chance to not repeat past experiences. “Perhaps you'd like to tell me what you'd like to share with Justin.”

“Nothing." 

She tapped her pen on her clipboard a few times but nodded just the same. “Okay. That's your decision.”

“So are you going to tell me what his problem is?”

The expression she fixed him with was pleasant but neutral. “Justin has been here for a little over two years. He doesn't talk. He sketches,” she answered smoothly. Brian waited a moment and then raised an expectant eyebrow, which made Lindsay smirk. “This process is entirely consensual, Brian. I share what the patient is comfortable with and nothing more; but in the end, especially in Justin's case, the decision of what I impart to another patient is my own. Justin has demonstrated a great deal of trust and maturity in consenting to share a good deal of his history with his buddy. However,” she added, “I have no intention of abusing the trust he's placed in me. If you decide to be more forthcoming, I might decide it's in Justin's best interest to disclose a bit more.”

“Is this how it works? I get to be mind-fucked in my own cell each day until I get released?” Brian snarled.

“I don't think it would be appropriate for me to engage in fucking a patient, even if it's only mind fucking.” Her answer actually made Brian bark a short laugh, which seemed to please her. With a sly grin Lindsay continued, “The first session is usually casual. I chose to conduct it in your room because I thought you'd feel more comfortable here. From now on you'll be coming to my office at this time each morning. To start, I have some paperwork for you. I'd like you to answer every question honestly, and to the best of your ability. It's my job to make sure we look after you properly.”

Brian watched as she removed some papers from the clipboard and handed them over along with a pencil. “This questionnaire is to establish what you'd prefer from our sessions.”

“What I'd prefer?” he asked, his tone making it clear that his preference was to have no sessions whatsoever.

“It's so I can establish the best course of treatment. In your case, you've been court ordered to be here for the duration of four months. I know this seems like quite a long while to you but when considering treatment, it's not much at all. I'd like to make certain we're using the time we have effectively.”

Brian spent the rest of the morning filling-out questionnaires that ranged in topic from health information to his favorite color. Lindsay left him just before lunch, and then it seemed like he was exchanging one blond for another, because Justin returned to the room apparently so he could escort Brian back to the nurse's station to get his tray. After lunch Brian got to leave Building Three, if only to make his way to the main building where he spent the rest of his afternoon in Lindsay's office filling out more questionnaires, in addition to visiting a doctor for a physical and for a few additional tests that verged on the bizarre. Brian assumed those tests were symptomatic of the 'holistic approach' practiced at Liberty. Whatever that meant. So far it meant having a trained professional prod his big toe with a metal wand while listening to bleeps, beeps and high-frequency wails on somehow from that, determining what foods Brian was no longer able to eat.

By the end of the day, and just in time for dinner, Brian had a meal plan, prescribed pills though all of them seemed to be vitamins and minerals and not the prescriptions he had been anticipating. He was on a detox plan, and had his very own therapist who claimed that she now knew how best to work with him. Brian bit his tongue, ate his dinner, took his pills, and read his book before falling asleep.

  
____________________________  


Brian had arrived at Liberty on Monday evening. By the hospital's standards he'd been officially settled in on Tuesday, meaning the various doctors and nursing staff claimed to know what to do with him. By Wednesday, he'd made enemies on the nursing staff. Yelling and calling them names didn't win him any points but hell, he was there as a result of his anger issues you'd think they'd be able to deal with it when it came up but strangely, the only person who seemed unaffected by Brian's extreme temper was Justin. When Brian screamed and raged and sometimes threw things, Justin would just watch him with an infuriating look of patience and acceptance that only frustrated Brian all the more. The boy, despite what Brian might have imagined, did not cower, did not cry, and never uttered a sound.

It Justin's silence that usually started Brian on his rants. It seemed almost like permission. In Brian's sessions Lindsay would sometimes comment on his 'episodes' and try to imply that perhaps, at least when he was on his floor, which meant when he was back amongst his blue-garbed 'peers', he should endeavor to contain himself.

Brian made no effort at all to contain himself. He had buttons and when those buttons were pushed he couldn't help it, he would snap. Liberty Hospital proved very adept at pushing his buttons. Between the completely and infuriatingly understanding therapist; 'the gang' who still insisted, despite his vociferous protests, that he was a part of them; nurses who glared at him for being such a shit and apparently mistreating their most sacred patient (Justin, his poor mute, helpless roommate), and Justin himself; not to mention the nightmares he suffered, Brian severely wondered if perhaps choosing a prison sentence might have been easier on him than the fresh hell that was Liberty Hospital.

  
____________________________  


Hands.

Brian didn't trust hands. Sometimes he marveled at their abilities, their varied uses, but he never trusted them. These hands were rough with calluses that rubbed his smooth skin raw as he struggled against their grip. These hands fisted and punched, they rubbed and scraped. These hands hurt.

In the end, there was nothing he could do to fight them off. The hands grasped tightly about his neck and he couldn't breathe, could barely squirm where he lay prone on his bed. There was a sense of relief, darkness would take him and it would be over, and the hands wouldn't be able to reach him. 

Then the hands changed. 

No longer rough and callused. Not hurting, not choking. Soft like cashmere and steadying him as he thrashed. Firm, like an anchoring weight.

Brian came awake with a gasp with one of Justin's hands grasped firmly in his own. With the other hand, Justin was grasping a stuffed teddy bear. Fighting for breath, Brian steadied his racing heart and tried to anchor himself in the present of the cool, quiet room. He spared a moment to wonder why Justin would think to wake him by holding his hand, but didn't bother to ask. He didn't want to speak, didn't want to break the silence, and instead felt oddly grateful for the mute, specter-like presence beside his bed.

After a moment, Brian relinquished his grip on the blonde's hand and watched as Justin squeezed the bear very tightly to his chest, leaning one cheek against the teddy's head before he handed the bear over to Brian. 

“I'm not a fucking baby,” Brian snapped. “I don't need a teddy bear. What the hell are you doing with one?” Justin watched him steadily for a moment before he settled the bear on Brian’s nightstand. “My roommate's a mute kid who still sleeps with stuffed toys. Christ,” Brian muttered ungratefully as Justin crossed back to his side of the room. 

He could hear Justin's bedside lamp being switched on, and then the sound of a pencil scratching on paper. He stayed very still waiting to see if Justin was watching him, but his roommate seemed entirely engrossed in his sketch. Brian snaked an arm across the bed and picked-up the teddy bear, drawing it close to his chest beneath the blankets, and then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.


End file.
